[ Speaking Japanese ]
[ Japanese ]
[ Grunting ]
[ Screams, Grunts ]
[ Yelling ]
[ Neck Cracks ]
[ Yelling ]
[ Screaming ]
[ Japanese ]
[ Voice On Speaker, Japanese ]
Bingo. All three checked out.
Mission accomplished, Frohike.
[ Japanese ]
[ Shouts In Japanese ]
[ Voice On Speaker, Japanese ]
[ Whispering ] Answer him. Answer him.
[ Japanese ]
[ Screams ]
[ Radio Static ]
[ Clattering ]
[ Grunts ]
Sayonara, baby.
Run for it! [ Grunts ]
[ Both Screaming ]
[ Sniffs ]
[ Golf Club Swinging ]
Fore.
[ Doorbell Buzzing ]
Oh, man.
Well, that was fast.
Hey, where are the papers?
Sitting on some loading dock somewhere.
The printers would not give them to us on credit.
Whoa. Uh-uh. Byers, we gotta get that Japanese whaling story out to the public.
What do you want me to say? We spent our last $1,200 getting the story.
We didn't save any money for publishing it. - I figured that would happen.
Oh, I am not in the mood for "I told you so's," Langly.
Far from it. If you guys are interested, I've figured out the answer to our money problems.
Oh, yeah? What's that? - We need to sell more papers.
Easier said than done. - Not when you've got "Lone Gunwoman of the Week."
Oh, good Lord, Langly. We can't use that.
She's... She's... - She's amazing.
And doesn't belong on the cover of any legitimate publication.
We're supposed to be fighting for truth, justice and the American way here.
Well, what the hell is this? This isn't fighting?
I put my butt on the line week in and week out
while you and Byers just hide behind the scenes.
Yeah, your butt, my brains. I should be a dot-com gazillionaire
instead of gracing you two with my hacking brilliance.
Bickering won't solve anything. - Byers, don't get holier than thou.
Yeah, "Mr. Big Picture", "Mr. Mission".
It's easy to talk about the stories we need to write.
Fighting whaling or illegal government surveillance or who killed J.F.K.
But you have to ask yourself, how far will you go to print them?
Not that far. [ Doorbell Buzzes ]
Ahh.
Sorry, buddy.
Uh, guys.
Well, aren't you going to invite me in?
Depends. Are you here to kill us?
Melvin, would you really be caught dead in that robe?
I must admit the thought of revenge did cross my mind.
You cost me a tidy profit when you stole my Octium IV chip.
Our Octium IV chip.
We've returned it to its rightful owner now that we've published our expos� of it.
How wonderful of you. Ah!
Conspiracy theories and masturbation. I suspected there was a connection.
What do you want, Yves?
Right. Down to business then.
This morning, a body was found in a Long Island dumpster.
Ayoung man called Alex Goldsmith. Better known as Double Bogey.
D.B., the golf nut. - Hacker extraordinaire.
You knew him? [ Byers ] By reputation.
After the '97 Masters Tournament
he hijacked the JumboTron screen in Times Square.
Made it flash "Tiger is God" for 26 minutes.
Classic hack. Who smoked him?
The police seem to think it was a drug deal gone bad.
But that doesn't take into account the three match-grade frangible slugs
dug from his chest... ammunition used by intelligence services around the globe.
But certainly not gangbangers.
So, who wanted one of the world's best hackers dead?
And why are you telling us?
There's a story to be uncovered here, wouldn't you say?
Unless, of course, you're no longer journalists
but budding pornographers.
[ Tires Screeching ]
[ Engine Sputters, Stalls ]
[ Engine Cranking ]
This is the place, right?
Yeah, yeah.
[ Groans ] Now turn off the damn engine and stop wasting my gas.
Oh, here we go with the gas again.
It's a known carcinogen. Got like a pint of it down in my stomach.
You drew the short straw. How was I supposed to know that you don't know how to siphon?
And you, Mr. Goody Two-Shoes!
Mr. "Suck one gallon out of 10 cars instead of 10 gallons out of one car."
Ethically it seemed somewhat more defensible.
Oh, you'll be sorry when I'm dead. - Oh, yeah? Prove it.
Come on. Get up. Out!
Alex wasn't into drugs. That much I know for certain.
He had so much going for him with the computers.
He was brilliant.
He had such a good heart.
[ Gagging ]
You put that in your article.
That he didn't sell drugs.
I guess you can see that I couldn't give him much growing up.
But I did teach him right from wrong.
How did Alex spend his time?
Did he have a specific project he was working on?
[ Crying ] I didn't see much of him these last few weeks.
[ Gagging ]
Um... may we see Alex's computer?
[ Computer Beeps ]
That was his very favorite thing in all the world.
Alex said that if the house ever caught fire
it was the only thing worth saving.
He even got it autographed by all the players in last year's U.S. Open.
Even Tiger Woods. See? - Wow.
[ Crying ] I'm sure you gentlemen could do with a snack.
I'll be right back.
[ Gagging, Retching ]
[ Retching Continues ]
[ Scoffs ] Langly!
[ Sighs ] That's okay.
I'm better. Thanks.
Fix it! Quick!
Oh.
Oh, good grief. - Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay.
[ Groans ]
[ Computer Beeps ]
What do you have? - A big lot of nothin'.
The hard drive's been reformatted.
Did you clean it up?
Oh, yeah.
You washed off all the names.
Anybody got any Magic Markers?
[ Mrs. Goldsmith ] Fellas, how does lemonade sound?
Oh, damn!
It's "Tiger", not "Tigger", you imbecile!
Here you are, boys.
Oh, that, uh... that looks lovely, but, uh...
We gotta go. - Yes.
Sorry. - Really, really sorry.
[ Mrs. Goldsmith Screams ] We'll make it up to you!
[ Screaming Continues ]
Told you I was sick. - Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Guys, I'm not sure Alex was the saint his mother thinks he was.
What's that? - It's a bank check dated four days ago
made out to Alex Goldsmith for one million dollars.
That's them. "Philanthropic Outreach Enterprises." P.O.E.
P.O.E. Corporation.
Are we to believe Alex Goldsmith was working for a charity?
Some charity... cutting million-dollar checks to hackers.
Sounds good to me.
Well, the State Corporation Commission has jack squat on them.
They have the C.E.O. registered as a one James Bond, for God's sakes.
A million bucks. I'd settle for $400 in cash to get my damn stomach pumped.
Langly, run a plate.
New York State. M-O-D-I-V, numeral 8.
Shut up about your stomach.
Oh, sure. My liver's shutting down, but who cares?
"Philanthropic Outreach." I bet the last donations these guys made...
was the three bullet holes they gave Alex Goldsmith.
You're guessing he hacked for them and then they killed him. - Mmm.
The car's registered to one James Bond. Cute.
Hey, check it. Mr. Bond, I presume.
Let's follow him.
[ Byers ] He's certainly in a hurry. - Late for a secret meeting?
[ Beeping ]
[ Beeping Continues ]
[ Whistle Blows ]
[ Beeping Continues ]
[ Football Beeping ]
[ Beeping Continues ]
[ Players Chattering ]
So, what do you figure?
Uh, Frohike... - Hmm?
[ Players Grunting ]
[ Blows Whistle ] Civilians on the field! Time out!
[ Groaning ]
[ Beeping Continues ]
[ Grunts, Groans ] Frohike, are you okay?
Oh, sure. Somebody's car alarm keeps going off.
What the hell? Are you guys blind or what?
Um, Langly.
Watch out, guys. Comin' through.
A blind football team?
Not just a team, but a league.
We're the first, but we got franchises startin' up
in California, Arizona and Florida.
God bless modern technology.
Sonar helmets, beeping footballs.
I know it'll work.
I promise you. One day, you'll be watching these men on ESPN.
[ Whistle Blows ] How you feeling?
Oh, peachy.
Nothing broken. [ Slaps Back ]
So, all this was your brainchild, Mr...
Bond. Jimmy Bond. Call me Jimmy.
[ Clattering ] Oh! Nice hustle, guys!
Now give me some wind sprints. - You got it, Coach! Boo-rah!
[ Players Whooping ]
[ Whooping, Shouting ]
Um, listen. I'm real sorry about you getting tagged.
But this practice is private. You gentlemen here for a reason?
We're journalists. We're interested in doing a story about your league.
Sports Illustrated? - uh... The Lone Gunman.
Right on. Huntin' and fishin'.
I like that.
Specifically, we're wondering how you fund this operation.
It must be expensive. - Yes, it is.
But how do you put a price tag on a dream?
Now I know that it sounds corny
but when I look at those men's faces
when they make a tackle, catch a pass...
Okay, that hasn't actually happened yet.
But still, to me
it's worth all the silver in Fort Knox.
That's very touching.
This is America, and every citizen has a God-given right to play football.
Where do you get your money from? - We're a charitable endowment.
We have benefactors that really believe in what we got going on here.
Who are they? We'd love to talk to them.
So would I. To thank them. They're completely anonymous.
And they want to keep it that way. They're not in it for the glory.
[ Whistle Blows ] Shouldn't you guys be writin' this down?
Uh, yeah.
Look, we're just gonna go back to the mobile news unit.
We're just gonna grab a tape recorder.
We'll be, uh, right back.
Hey, Coach!
Got him! - High five! Yeah!
[ Grunts ]
Yeesh. Can that guy be for real?
Well, he's no criminal mastermind. Of that I'm fairly certain.
But this P.O.E. has a certain agenda, even if he doesn't.
Well, let's get the hell outta here and stop wastin' our time.
Yeah. [ Engine Cranking ]
[ All Sighing ]
Boys, knock yourselves out.
Where are you going?
Somebody's gotta suck the pipe. It ain't gonna be me.
Langly.
Hello? Anybody?
Can I help you?
I... can help you. For a price.
I'm guessing that you knew a kid named Alex Goldsmith.
Number two hacker in America.
Why settle for number two when you can have number one?
That would be you? - Exactly. Whatever he was doing, I can do it better.
Without even knowing what it is?
Doesn't matter. As long as we're talking computers, I got the man skills.
So it's all downhill, if you know what I'm sayin'. Come check me out.
Want to be a five-star general? Just click the button.
There. That makes the Pentagon, the Jet Propulsion Lab...
and the Queen's Bank of George Town, Cayman Islands.
I hacked into 'em all inside of 19 minutes.
Plus I reset your systems clock. Daylight savings.
I got the job? - You got the job.
[ Muffled Cries ]
[ Football Beeping ]
Here you go. - Thank you.
Glad to help. [ Whistle Blows ]
[ Cell Phone Ringing ]
Hello? Oh! - Hello? Frohike?
[ Groaning ] Hey, get off me! You're crushing my pelvis!
Oh, man! - Are you talking to Byers? Should I call back?
No, it's not Byers. It's just some huge guy.
I mean... I mean... What is it, Yves?
I just thought I should let you know the whereabouts of your obnoxious friend.
Langly? Where the hell is he?
At the moment, being loaded into a car trunk.
[ Muffled Cries ]
Langly's in there? - [ Yves ] Top floor, most likely.
I'm guessing this is where Alex Goldsmith was murdered.
What is this place? - The Belamirsk Embassy.
Where the hell is Belamirsk?
A breakaway republic from the former Soviet Union, recognized by the U.S. last year.
At least there's one of you who isn't completely hopeless.
Looks secure. - Very.
Motion detectors, armed guards, not to mention diplomatic immunity.
Langly may as well be in Belamirsk.
But what does a breakaway republic have to do with a bogus charity?
An arms deal. The ruling party's faced with a rebel faction it wants to quash.
They reckon a few metric tons of nerve gas will do the trick nicely.
P.O.E. is a shell company created to hide the transaction.
For some reason, they need a good hacker to complete the deal.
You know a lot more about this than you told us before.
What are you doing in Long Island, anyway?
I presume you're profiting off this. - What's your angle?
It's none of your business. - I'll take a wild stab and say money. Filthy lucre.
If money's all you want, why don't you walk in there and do their hacking yourself?
Do you think they'll let Langly live to enjoy his profits?
[ Muffled Shouting ]
Ow! Man! Watch the lips! Mm.
I gotta say... so far this job sucks!
You'll use these. You have T-1 access, of course.
What's the hack? - "E" Stock online accounts.
Set up a bogus corporation, access the account debiting protocols
and transact a 50-share I.P.O. purchase
at $10 a share on every "E" Stock account.
Every account? - Yeah.
That's probably 100,000 people.
Fifty shares at $10 a share, and you'll raise $50 million just like that.
And just like that, you'll have the S.E.C. and Justice on your tail.
You gotta know they monitor every online transaction for fraud.
Just make it happen by midnight.
[ Door Closes ]
[ Sighs ]
We could kill their alarm system. That's a start.
Then what? You can't go bursting in there like the cavalry.
What is going on with Langly? He hitchhikes all the way back to P.O.E. for what?
Just to get grabbed? I mean, what was he thinking?
He was thinking with his heart, not his head. It was that question he asked of me:
How far will we go?
Meaning? - How far will we go to tell the truth
to get the story, to fight the good fight?
This is his answer. All the way.
That dope. He's gonna get himself killed.
Not just yet. Not if he's useful to them.
I assume he is, which buys us a little time.
I've dealt with these kinds of people more often than I can say.
I know their type. First, we have to find out exactly what's going on in there.
I could sneak in. - In broad daylight? Not easy.
Why sneak in when you can ring the doorbell?
Especially if you're someone they know.
Good scrimmage, guys! Way to go!
Benny, nice T.D! High five. [ Byers ] Mr. Bond?
Back for more, huh? [ Grunt, Thud ]
It's irresistible. The passion of these guys.
I'm tellin' ya. Monday Night Football better watch their butts!
[ Whooping ] Love this game!
Well, enjoy it while you can.
I think you just watched your last blind football game.
[ Laughs ] What are you talkin' about?
There is no league, bub. We checked.
The other franchises don't exist. There's just you.
P.O.E. is a front set up to cover an illegal arms deal.
And you're the fall guy. - Me?
[ Byers ] Yours is the only name on record.
Your company had a bank check cut to a computer programmer named Alex Goldsmith.
He was gonna design our Web page.
He's dead. - Murdered by your friend at P.O.E.
I knew it! I knew there was something up with that guy.
He wouldn't give me his name, his phone number.
Always talking about anonymous benefactors.
Oh, man.
Stupid, stupid, stupid! [ Football Beeping ]
Anybody could've made the same mistake.
Yeah. Blind football. Who wouldn't sign on for that?
Hey, that was my idea! I thought that up.
What about my team?
What happens to them?
You know, some people actually laugh at those guys.
Like blind football's funny. Like it's a lost cause.
I think they're missing the point.
These boys are out here because it's difficult.
Because people say it can't be done.
They have courage.
And God knows that we need more guys like that...
that have the courage to fight for the lost causes.
Because every now and then
one of them wins.
That guy who set you up?
We know where you can find him.
[ Jimmy On Speaker ] Hello? Hello?
Hello!
Open up! You people, open up!
Hey there. Remember me?
How's it shaking, buddy?
Mr. Bond, why are you here?
I was in the neighborhood.
Came by to meet the anonymous benefactors.
Hello! Anonymous benefactors!
Mr. Bond... - Oh! You know what I just found out?
There aren't any! Know what else I found out?
You're a murderer who plans to buy a bunch of nerve gas
and you set me up to be your fall guy!
Where did you get these ideas?
I know some people, okay? Investigative journalists.
They write for this hunting and fishing magazine
and they set me straight about everything!
You're going down, my German friend.
I'm not German.
You're going up. Up, up the river!
I just wanted to tell you personally
so that every time you're in that prison TV room
watching football, you'll think about me
and my boys.
[ Grunts ]
Please tell me that wasn't part of the plan.
[ Langly ] Psst. Psst. Hey, guy.
James Bond.
Is your name Langly? - Yeah. What are you doing here?
Brought you a little present from your friends.
Although I don't think it'll fit under this door.
Oh! Wait. I just had a thought.
[ Quietly ] How's that?
By all means, keep whispering. Don't want to alert anyone.
Anyway, here you go.
This is what you call a ghostly mode circle.
Ghost modem circuit. - Yeah, pretty much.
It enables you to contact your friends outside...
without the fear of, uh, electrical surveillance
over-riddance, which has to do with cadence...
Don't even try, all right?
You just plug it in to your A.C. outlet over there.
D.C. Thanks.
[ Frohike ] We got traffic.
Langly, what the hell are you doing in there, you moron?
I put my butt on the line to get the scoop on the P.O.E. - And did you?
They want me to rip off "E" Stock for $50 million, but I don't know for what.
We do. It's their little slush fund for buying nerve gas
meant to be dropped on the rebels in Bela...
Belamirsk. - Yeah.
[ Byers ] It'll kill thousands, Langly.
Alex Goldsmith must've found out about it. Probably refused to do the work.
Then they murdered him for it. - So what are you thinking, man?
Well, I'm not stealing their 50 million. That's for sure.
I'm not gonna help them kill a bunch of Bela... whatevers. - Then they'll kill you.
Do exactly as they say. - Excuse me?
Did they provide an account number to transfer the money into?
Yeah. Some Eastern European bank.
Langly's just where we need him.
What?
[ Clock Chiming ]
I trust you are ready.
[ Knuckles Cracking ]
Frohike, showtime.
Okay. Here goes nothing.
[ Forced Coughing, Grunts ]
That's it? - That's it.
Fifty million clams. Told you I was the best.
All of it transferred to the account number I gave you?
Right here.
An excellent job.
Damn straight it is.
Let's see that you get paid.
[ Shouting In Russian ]
[ Continues In Russian ]
What's going on? - I'll be back.
What the hell just happened?
[ Speaking Russian ]
What? - Come on. Jump.
Do it! Jump! - What? Are you nuts?
I jumped. It's not that far.
Good luck. - What?
Hey, where are you going?
Bingo.
Come on. I'll catch you. - Catch me?
[ Man Shouting In Russian ] You promise?
Yeah.
I gotcha. Come on.
I gotcha. - Hurry up. Come on.
[ Langly Grunts ]
[ Shouts In Russian ]
[ Groaning ]
[ Shouts In Russian ]
[ Gunshots ]
[ Shots, Shouting Continue ]
Come on! Hurry, hurry! Come on!
[ All Grunting ]
[ Shouting ]
[ Jimmy ] Yeehaw! Right on!
Man, you guys live life on the edge!
Get off me! - Byers, we just can't leave.
I got that guy his money. He's gonna buy nerve gas with it.
No, he won't. The ruling party in his country is bankrupt. - What are you talking about?
Yves siphoned that Belamirsk account you provided her. Stole God knows how many millions.
What? What about the $50 million I stole?
You never stole it. Yves made it look like you did.
Hey, where the hell is Yves anyway?
She's gone, after having transferred the money to an untraceable account, I assume.
Take the money and run. That was her plan all along.
And we're right back where we started.
So, uh, she forgives you?
Yeah. Well, a million dollars forgives a lot.
That was good of you. Giving her the check was the right thing to do.
Yeah, man. I'm proud of you.
Oh, shut up the both of you. We're still flat-ass broke...
we're sitting on another great story we don't have the money to publish
and last week's issues are still on the loading dock.
Let's just go home.
[ Engine Cranking ]
[ Sighs ]
[ Whistling ]
That's it. I'm gettin' a horse.
Oh, man. Hey, guys!
It's last week's Lone Gunman.
The whole press run. How did this get here?
Oh, no. No way.
Jimmy? You paid for these?
You guys fight the lost causes.
I want to help.
[ Crash ]
[ Child ] I made this!